


Flipside

by Pixxit



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-18
Updated: 2008-06-22
Packaged: 2019-09-15 01:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16924383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixxit/pseuds/Pixxit
Summary: On holiday with his family, Mizuki meets someone who changes his way of thinking and the way he views himself.





	1. Chapter 1

 

As far as Mizuki Hajime was concerned, 'going on holiday' meant jetting off for an extended stay in the French countryside. Conversely, it could mean a cruise to Hong Kong or Holland or even a week in the westernmost part of America.

Mizuki's holiday was not supposed to involve a two-day ferry ride where he'd had to share a dorm with his entire family. His grandfather snored, his mother tidied as quickly as a single item found itself out of place and his two sisters were sorely trying his patience. Once or twice, he'd tried to text Yuuta, but couldn't find a signal. 'Maybe on the island' his grandmother had supplied helpfully, as though she knew a single thing about cell phones and their lack of reception. He'd spent the majority of his time on the ferry gazing out at the ocean below and considering recording his thoughts in a small, leather-bound journal that Yuuta had given him before school had let out that week. He'd taken it tentatively, confused and a little bashful to receive a gift from Yuuta for no good reason. His confusion must have been evident as Yuuta had frowned and glanced around surreptitiously for a moment.

"I guess it's an early birthday present. I hear Okinawa is really nice; you'll probably want to write about it while you're there."

His happiness had been short-lived, however, when Atobe and Shishido had strolled past. Shishido had elbowed Mizuki, accidentally-on-purpose, knocking the journal out of his hand and onto the grass below.

"Who vacations in _Okinawa_?" Atobe had sneered, sparing Yuuta a glance before tucking both hands into his pockets and strolling away just as casually as he'd approached. Over his shoulder, Shishido had scowled back at them.

"Watch where you're going, _Mizuki_."

Frowning, Yuuta had bent to retrieve the journal, dusted it off and handed it back to Mizuki. "Don't mind them, Mizuki-san," he'd said absently, still frowning in the direction that Atobe and Shishido had gone.

And so he hadn't. Never did, if he was going to be completely honest. Of course, his outlook upon first arriving at Hyoutei had been quite a bit different. He'd so wanted to fit in, to shine somehow. He didn't, though, and having watched Atobe hold court so effectively from the day he'd arrived had been reality check enough for Mizuki. After such a realization, he focused on his studies, on the private lessons he sometimes gave and – secretly – on Yuuta.

Now, though, with the seaside hotel looming above him and his family shuffling alongside him with their luggage, Mizuki remembered that Yuuta was hundreds of miles away and he was alone now as he would have been if he'd made the trip without a soul to accompany him.

"Hajime!" His father called, nudging Mizuki with his carryall. "Help your grandfather with his bag!"

"Yes, Father," he said, weary and wilting from the heat and the trials of traveling. Shifting his own belongings, he fell back to wait for his grandfather and took his bag.

"You're a good boy, Hajime," his grandmother said, beaming as she handed off her only bag to Mizuki, too. "You'll make some young lady very happy someday."

Ignoring his sister's immediate laughter, Mizuki weaved his way toward the lobby while his father checked in. His mother and grandparents sat down on a bench near the elevator while his sisters whispered and giggled behind their hands, making eyes with a bellhop who'd wandered in from outside.

"Will you ladies be needing any help this morning?" he asked, bowing though he still held the girls' gazes boldly. Mizuki frowned. And _perspired_.

"Please," his eldest sister responded, flirting shamelessly. The bellhop probably had a friend that he would offer to introduce them to and – later that night – they would all go out on the town and have a marvelous time while Mizuki sat in a pachinko parlor with senior citizens, wishing that someone would notice him and pretending not to feel invisible when they didn't.

"Hajime!" his mother said, snapping her fingers. "The elevator is waiting!"

Frowning, feeling a drop of sweat slide down the back of his neck and further still between his shoulder blades, Mizuki suppressed a shudder and hobbled over to his family. The elevator could wait forever as far as he was concerned. The _elevator_ , in fact, could kiss his ass.

Inside the elevator, bad music played. His father hummed along, tapping his foot in his dollar-store sandals. "Great song," he said to no one in particular. "I performed this once."

Patting his arm absently, Mizuki's mother smiled. "And it was just lovely, dear."

Slipping an arm around his wife's waist, Mizuki's father beamed and held her close. "As long as you think so, my darling."

Turning quickly to face the shiny twin doors, Mizuki felt the contents of his breakfast settled most uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He needed to get away from his family; the sooner the better. After the trip was over, he would be ready to scream. Or have a tantrum or pull out his hair or _anything_ to take his mind off of the miserable waste his Golden Week had become.

Catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the doors, however, he immediately straightened his posture and schooled his expression. It was bad enough that his hair was limp and his clothes were sticking to his body. He wasn't about to run around the hotel grimacing like an ape, too.

Plodding along the hallway after his parents, Mizuki wondered if he could stand postponing his escape until after he'd bathed. He'd had a quick wash on the ferry that morning, but had been unable to luxuriate as he typically chose to do. The thirty-mile ride from Naha port to Chatan had taken nearly an hour as traffic was terrible and his father had absolutely no sense of direction. In the end, his mother had taken over the navigational aspect of the trip and they'd soon arrived at the hotel. Regardless, Mizuki had been hot, sweaty and grumpy and he wasn't the only one. His grandfather had been steadily whining about his joints and the humidity from the moment he'd awakened that morning. Mizuki didn't point out that his grandfather had slept on a bed and not on the tatami mat that _he'd_ had to sleep on, as he didn't want to find himself on the receiving end of his mother's displeasure. Again.

"I can't wait to check out the beach," Natsuru, his second eldest sister whispered. "Maybe we'll see that guy tonight, do you think?"

"I don't know," Nanami answered, distracted and digging through her purse. "I hope his friends are as cute as he is."

Mizuki frowned. It embarrassed him that his sisters were boy-crazy. Couldn't they be even a little circumspect?

"Hajime, do you have that cotton candy lipgloss I was using on the ferry this morning?"

"What?" Mizuki asked, insulted. "Why would I have it?"

Natsuru rolled her eyes and began rummaging through her own purse. "He has the apple fizz. We swapped last night. I hope you didn't lose yours, Nanami."

"Oh, well," Nanami said, shrugging and apparently giving up on the idea. "I'll just pick up a new one later today when we hit the boardwalk."

Mizuki frowned again. He hoped there _was_ no boardwalk. It would serve them right.

"Hajime," his father said, waving him toward their room. "Set those bags down, son. They must be heavy."

"Yes," Mizuki managed as he trundled himself inside the room. "They're _very_ heavy, in fact." The 'so why didn't you help me?' went unspoken though Mizuki hoped his father could feel his displeasure.

"I don't know about you," his grandmother said, flopping down on one of the beds. "But I could use a nap."

"Father, where should I put these?" Mizuki asked, indicating his grandparents' things.

"Oh, just set them down in here," his mother interrupted. "Mother and Father are staying in this room with us. You kids can stay in the other room."

This was the best news Mizuki had heard since they'd left Tokyo.

"May I go out and look around?" he asked. "After we've settled in?"

"Sure, sure," his father said. "Go with your sisters, though, all right? I don't want them wandering around without protection."

Glancing through the doorway that adjoined his parent's room and the one he'd be sharing with his sisters, Mizuki watched Nanami drop her bag and stretch her arms over her head. She was taller than Mizuki was and twice as mean. His father was out of his mind.

"Okay, fine," he groused, dragging his bags through the door and dumping them nearest the window.

"Dibs on the shower," Natsuru said, shimmying into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

"Me next," Nanami said, giving Mizuki a meaningful look before wandering off to stare at herself in the mirror over the dresser.

After a moment, Mizuki glanced out of the window to watch the fronds of a palm tree swaying in the breeze. Bending to strip off his socks and shoes, he pawed through a duffel bag for the sandals he'd packed.

Screw the shower. He was getting the hell out of there while the getting was still good.

 

~***~

 

Outside, the sun wasn't as bright as it had been when they'd arrived. Clouds had rolled in and, while it was every bit as hot as it had been before, the wind had picked up somewhat. The air felt heavy and the clouds seemed to have swelled and Mizuki was happy for the respite; the sun here was unforgiving.

The beaches were different from the ones he'd imagined when his father had announced where they'd be spending Golden Week. The sand was hot beneath his sandals, but the coast was rocky and not lush as he'd presumed it would be. There were plenty of people about, though Mizuki didn't notice many his own age, and he found himself relaxing the way he hadn't been able to in the two days past. Being alone wasn't so bad when no one knew that he spent most of his time that way. Here, he was just a tourist and no one knew that he was Mizuki Hajime whose family wasn't rich and whose life wasn't perfect. Mizuki Hajime who dreamed about a love that didn't involve girls and craved a future far more successful and affluent than the life he lived every day.

Waves broke in the distance – loud and impressive – and Mizuki wondered if Atobe Keigo had ever been to Okinawa. Despite his misgivings about a holiday wasted, there was no denying that the island was beautiful. Having spent his youth far from any modern metropolis, Mizuki was familiar with a landscape like this one. He'd assumed that such a parallel would only make him hate his situation that much more and was surprised to find that he didn't. He was somewhat relaxed and enjoying the solitude for once; he couldn't help thinking that it was his surroundings that made it so.

In the distance, there were signs advertising diving tours, fishing boats, surfing and weekend flea markets. Mizuki fervently hoped that his mother hadn't planned many group activities over the next few days. Carrying his grandmother's shopping bags and shielding her from the sun with an umbrella was not something he looked forward to.

A drop of water landed just in the middle of his forehead and Mizuki glanced up. The skies were darker and the clouds were ominously swollen. Most of the sea bathers had pulled up stakes and were making their way up the beach toward the shops just past a line of hotels. There was sand trapped beneath the soles of his feet and the cushioned rubber of his sandals and when he bent to tighten the straps, the rain began to fall.

He hurried up the beach, tugging his oversized button-up over the back of his head to block the rain and was relieved to notice the restaurant situated on the corner of a small shopping plaza. The storefront was casual and unadorned and the door was propped open despite the wind and coming rain. Several small tables and stools were scattered around the room and similar stools lined a makeshift bar. Overhead was a television that nobody really seemed to be watching. It wasn't packed inside and Mizuki had his pick of places to sit.

Taking a seat at the bar, he worked his fingers through wet, messy curls and frowned when he imagined how he must look or – worse – how he must _smell_. There was nothing worse than sweat and residual hair product.

After a moment, he realized that the seat next to him was occupied, though its occupant seemed not to have noticed Mizuki. He was tall, tanned and long strands of his hair hung in a perfect curl over his forehead. He wore glasses and was dressed like a beach bum, though the book that was open before him was written in French. Mizuki tried not to stare and smiled self-consciously when a waitress looked at him helpfully.

Turning on his stool, Mizuki glanced down to see that the boy beside him was barefoot. Beneath the stool, battered sandals lay discarded and Mizuki noticed the braided hemp bracelet tied loosely around the boy's right ankle. When he looked up again, intending only to allow himself another quick glance, he nearly gasped to find himself staring into the boy's dark eyes. Nudging his glasses up with the tip of one finger, he quirked a brow at Mizuki, his expression entirely neutral.

"Oh, sorry," Mizuki said, flustered when the stranger did not speak. "I didn't mean to stare. I was just...looking around."

Without looking away, the boy poured more tea into the cup before him and Mizuki's gaze darted there and back again quickly. There was something about him – something familiar.

"I got caught in the rain," he continued, wishing that he could just _shut up_. "I'm not from around here."

Finally, the boy smiled faintly. "Yeah? I couldn't tell."

Blushing, Mizuki looked around in the hopes that something would take his attention and he could leave this unsettling stranger alone.

"Got a little wet, I guess," he went on, motioning to the girl behind the bar and tapping his teacup when she looked his way.

After a moment, she brought an additional teacup and placed it before Mizuki though it was to the boy beside him that she spoke. "More tea?"

He nodded, murmured his thanks and closed the book before him. With a glance toward the news program that was playing overhead, he picked up his cup and sipped slowly.

"On holiday?"

"Yes," Mizuki said quickly – far too quickly to allow him any sort of poise and confidence. "With my family. I'm from Tokyo. My name's Mizuki."

The waitress returned, filled Mizuki's cup and set the fresh teapot on the counter before taking the other one away. Mizuki picked it up almost immediately, sipping tea to shut himself up.

Seeming to be suddenly engrossed in the news playing on the TV, the boy frowned and parted his lips as though to speak when two other boys appeared in the doorway. Both were tanned and dressed in thin t-shirts and baggy shorts and that was where the similarities ended. One boy was blond and almost staggeringly attractive while the other was scruffy and wiry and wore an ugly, ill-fitting trucker hat.

"Eishirou, hurry up. Kei just entered a hot dog eating contest and we've got money on him!"

The boy beside Mizuki – _Eishirou_ \- sighed and reached into his pocket. Tossing a few bills on the bar, he glanced once at Mizuki. "See you. Mizuki."

Scooping up his book, Eishirou slipped on his sandals and eased off of the stool. Mizuki snuck a glance at the blond, who regarded him with far more interest than the other boy had.

"We?" Eishirou was saying as the boys followed him out. "I thought you were broke, Kai-kun."

"Well," trucker hat said, hurrying after him. "I am, technically. That's why we came to get you."

The blond laughed, hands sliding casually into his back pockets, and walked just at Eishirou's side. Mizuki watched them go, small twinge of jealousy infringing on his enjoyment of the tea Eishirou had left behind.

It must be nice, he thought, watching them disappear in the distance, in the rain, to have friends like that.

Seated at the bar, Mizuki sipped tea and glanced occasionally at the cup Eishirou had abandoned. The news played in the background and a few older men near the far end of the bar told off-color jokes and ordered beer after beer after beer. By the time Mizuki had finished the tea, the rain had stopped.

Without a word, he left the restaurant and made his way back down the beach, in the opposite direction that Eishirou and his friends had gone. He wondered if he'd ever see them again.

 

~***~

 

His mother was herding the family out of the elevator when Mizuki passed through the hotel's revolving door. His hair was crisp and his clothes were damp and he couldn't remember ever feeling so rumpled in all his life. Strangely enough, it didn't upset him.

"Hajime, where have you been?"

Shrugging his shoulders a little, Mizuki glanced down, embarrassed to see sand dried between his toes. "I just went for a walk along the beach. It rained."

Clucking her tongue at him, she patted her husband's arm. "Michi, give him some money."

Tugging his wallet out of the inside pocket of his jacket – Mizuki knew he only kept it there because he'd seen other men of more consequence than himself keep their wallets there – his father peeled off a few notes and pressed them into Mizuki's hand.

"That will have to last you a couple of days, Hajime," he said solemnly. Embarrassed, Mizuki nodded. They weren't poor, but they weren't rich either. He hated taking his father's money knowing that there wasn't an endless supply – hated having to receive a bit of pocket change when it came with so serious a warning.

"Don't go wandering off by yourself," his mother warned.

"Perverts about," his grandmother added.

Mizuki nodded again, twirling a few curls around his fingers and trying his best to look disinterested. "All right, I won't." And then, as an afterthought, "Where are Natsuru and Nanami?"

"They said something about doing a bit of shopping," his father answered. "Oh, here's an extra key to the room. Don't lose it."

Mizuki took the key, allowed his mother to ruffle his already disgraceful hair and waited until she'd turned her back to wipe away the kiss she'd pressed to his cheek. He would have bet money that she hadn't kissed either of his sisters before _they'd_ gone off for the evening.

In the elevator, he hummed along with the tinny muzak playing and tried not to feel claustrophobic. He thought about the nice, long soak in the tub he'd be partaking of very soon. He thought about ordering room service and laying about in a fluffy, white bathrobe. He thought about being alone all night long and about the good time his sisters were probably having: spending their father's money and catching the eye of every guy on the island. He sighed; life just wasn't fair. And then he thought about the guy he'd met in the restaurant earlier and that's where his thoughts seemed most eager to dwell.

Down the corridor and into his room, Mizuki thought about him. While he ran water into the bath and uncapped the bath foam he thought about the way the boy's eyes had looked behind the lenses of his glasses. Stripping off his clothes, he thought about the book the boy had been reading and how much Mizuki had enjoyed looking at his long, tanned legs and the woven bracelet around his ankle. When he sank into the water, soft sigh of contentment blowing the bubbles around him, he thought about the boy's quiet voice and the accent that had seemed so foreign to Mizuki. He wasn't the type that usually caught Mizuki's attention, but there had been something almost refined about him that had made him seem so different from the boys Mizuki knew.

He stretched out his legs, thought about the two boys who had taken Eishirou away. It was fascinating to Mizuki how close they'd seemed. Like brothers, in a way, how they'd only had to say a few words to get Eishirou to go along. He hadn't seemed bothered by their interruption and they hadn't seemed surprised that he'd gone so easily. When, Mizuki wondered, had any other boy ever seemed so eager to give up on his own activities merely in order to please Mizuki? Never, that's when. And maybe it was his own fault, always scheming and working so hard to hide what and who he was behind the image he'd so carefully constructed. He didn't volunteer information about his family and where he'd come from. He suspected that Atobe knew, but reasoned that Atobe made it his business to know anything that might be beneficial to him. So far, he'd never said a word to Mizuki about his less-than-affluent origins, but Mizuki lived in constant fear that, someday, he might. It was hard, always pretending. The only person he didn't have to pretend with was Yuuta and Mizuki had long since resigned himself to the fact that Yuuta would never be interested in him. Not _that_ way. He doubted that Eishirou, whoever he was, ever had to pretend.

Shaking off his thoughts, Mizuki reached for the hotel shampoo, hoping their conditioner didn't weigh his hair down the way cheap conditioner always did. The soap was plain and didn't smell as good as the lilac body wash he preferred but when he dried off, his skin was soft and smooth and he supposed it wasn't so bad, after all.

All total, he spent about ten minutes in the bathrobe he'd been intending to lounge in all evening. One look at the restaurant's menu had effectively curtailed any thoughts of room service as the cheapest thing on the menu would take half of what his father had given him earlier. Tossing the menu on the bed, Mizuki wandered over to the window and gazed out over the little mini-plazas and the small, orange lamps that lit the sidewalks and shop doorways. Palm trees swayed in the breeze and people strolled along the sidewalks. An evening cooped up inside his room suddenly seemed as undesirable as an evening spent dining and sightseeing with his parents.

Turning away from the window, he hefted his bag onto the bed and began to pick through the thirteen or fourteen outfits he'd managed to cram into his tiny suitcase. Summer white, the lot of them, and he smiled – pleased with himself – as he selected a light, airy shirt and loose, filmy shorts. He went easy on the cologne since he'd read that it attracted insects and settled for a spritz of some musky fragrance Natsuru often wore. If it worked for his sister, maybe it would work for him, too.

Outside, it was just as humid as it had been earlier in the day, but the breeze off the ocean made it infinitely more bearable. Steering away from the beach, he kept to the sidewalks that wound between shops and bars. In the distance, he could see fire on the beach and hear music and singing. Intrigued, he wandered in the direction of the light and the sound, ducking under smaller ficus trees and picking his way over pebbled pathways. He smiled when the bonfire came into view, hugged himself and rubbed his bare arms. He'd tied his jacket around his waist, but knew he'd only have to take it off again the closer he got to the fire.

People were lounging in the sand, on beach towels and in cheap, plastic chairs. Some were drinking beer, others weren't drinking anything at all. Closer to the strip was a small cafe that people wandered in and out of. Some hung in the doorway to listen to the music – music that was not unfamiliar to Mizuki. His father had appalling taste in music and he had grown up listening to folk and country, so much so that the mere mention of it made Mizuki cringe. This music, though, was almost pretty. Most intriguing was the singing or, rather, the chanting – _sou sou sou sou_ – and Mizuki found that he could not resist its lure.

Standing just on the outskirts of the gathering, he was shocked to recognize the blond boy he'd seen earlier. Surrounded by admiring girls, he sang along to the sanshin as though he'd never lived a self-conscious day in his life. Judging from the rapt attention he garnered, Mizuki was inclined to believe that he hadn't. Trucker hat was there, too, leaning against a rather big fellow – okay, so he was _fat_ – and clapping his hands in time with the whistle that Mizuki could hear, but not see.

Suddenly excited, Mizuki glanced around quickly, wondering if Eishirou were there, too. It didn't take him long to spot him and, when he did, he blushed scarlet to realize that Eishirou had noticed him _first_.

Stretched out on the sand without benefit of a towel, braced on his elbows and ankles crossed, he arched a brow at Mizuki and patted the sand beside him. Mizuki froze. Was he actually extending an invitation? For no good reason? Swallowing hard, Mizuki took a few steps toward him, wondering why he sat apart from his friends. The others were completely caught up in the singing and the drinking and simply having a good time. Eishirou, however, kept his distance though Mizuki didn't miss the indulgent, affectionate look on his face when he glanced their way briefly.

"Is it okay?" Mizuki asked, hesitant to kneel in the sand beside him. "I was just out walking and..."

"It's a public beach," Eishirou said, toes moving in time to the music. Mizuki couldn't look away. "Besides," he went on, amusement clear in the tone of his voice. "Didn't I wave you over?"

"I, uh...wasn't sure," Mizuki said honestly.

Eishirou laughed, then, lying back in the sand and resting his head on his hands. He closed his eyes and the line of his mouth softened. "Relax, Mizuki-kun. Aren't you on holiday?"

Mizuki laughed nervously. " _Nfu_. Yes, right."

They fell silent then and after a few moments, Mizuki forgot to be self-conscious. Eishirou appeared to be nearly falling asleep and Mizuki found himself caught up in the atmosphere and the music and the interesting company. The blond boy had abandoned the girls in favor of dancing with his friend and Mizuki couldn't help laughing at the two of them. They didn't appear at all interested in what anyone thought of their behavior and seemed only to care that it was fun. Mizuki envied them that.

He snuck a glance at Eishirou, whose eyes were still closed, and when he looked back at the two boys, the blond had both arms wound tight around trucker hat's neck and they were kissing in plain view of _everyone_. Like no one else was there.

Mizuki sucked in a breath and, beside him, Eishirou laughed quietly.

"They only do that," he began, eyes still closed, "when other people are watching."

"Then they're not..." Mizuki trailed off, unable to speak the words.

Eishirou turned his head, regarding Mizuki calmly. "Not?"

Mizuki looked away, irritated for feeling stupid. He drew lines in the sand with the tip of one finger and wished that this boy could see him when he was at his best. When he really drew a crowd and shone the way he knew he could. "Into guys," he finished lamely.

"Beats me," Eishirou said. "I just know they don't do it when they don't have an audience."

"How do you know that?" Mizuki snapped, unnerved by Eishirou's constant self-assurance. As much as he wanted to be liked, he hated feeling inferior. Eishirou made him feel inferior and he wasn't even trying.

Eishirou smiled then. Smiled when Mizuki had been so certain he'd become angry. He nudged Mizuki's bare knee and shifted to cross his ankles again. "Because Rin's a virgin."

Suddenly very much aware of the cool air and of the waves crashing against rocks further down the beach, Mizuki's belly tightened. His nipples tightened. He was embarrassingly, inexplicably aware of Eishirou's sexuality – a sexuality that he hadn't really noticed before – and all he'd had to do was give Mizuki _that look_ and allude to someone else's sex life. Or lack thereof. Mizuki swallowed.

"Which one is Rin?" he asked, voice faint.

"The blond," Eishirou told him.

"He told you that?" Mizuki asked; he couldn't resist.

"They tell me everything," Kite said.

"What, are you their leader or something?" Mizuki asked flippantly, unable to resist a bit of needling. It just came so naturally.

"I'm their captain."

And – just like that – Mizuki realized who this boy really was. This guy – this interesting, responsible, self-satisfied guy who had monopolized Mizuki's thoughts all evening – was Kite Eishirou. And these boys who followed him were the same boys who had shown up at Nationals three years ago, wiped the courts with Rokkaku and been promptly sent packing by Seigaku.

Mizuki could scarcely believe he'd made the connection; he'd only seen Kite once or twice and, even then, it had been at a distance. He'd heard plenty about them, however, when the games had ended.

"Kite," Mizuki said, certain that he'd guessed right. "You're from Higa."

"You've got a pretty good memory," Kite said, eyes closed again. _Smug bastard_.

Frowning, Mizuki was suddenly overcome with the urge to fling sand at Kite. Of course he had a good memory. He had an _excellent_ memory. Too bad the same couldn't be said for Kite.

"We never really met," he said, wondering how Kite could make him feel as inconsequential as Atobe made him feel without expending any effort whatsoever.

"No, we didn't," Kite agreed. "I saw you once or twice, though."

Mizuki grew still, shocked that Kite had noticed him at all. "You did?"

"You must be used to being noticed," Kite said easily, completely unashamed when he must know that Mizuki would take his words for flirtation.

Straightening his shoulders, lifting his chin, Mizuki suddenly saw the situation in a much more favorable light. "I suppose you could say that," he said. " _Nfu_."

"Hey, Mizuki-kun," Kite said suddenly, raising his voice over the collective noise of the crowd that was slowly beginning to disperse.

"Yes?"

"You want to get out of here?"

_Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes._

"And do what?" he scoffed. "We're in the middle of nowhere."

"That's the best place to have a good time. Didn't you know?"

The subtle innuendo in Kite's voice made Mizuki restless, unsure. But he hid it well.

"Eishirou!" Trucker hat called out then, waving his cell phone at Kite from his place near the waning fire. The blond had an arm around his waist and seemed happy enough to blow kisses at the girls who were preparing to leave.

"Hiroshi's got the house to himself – you coming or what?"

Kite didn't say a word, simply stared at Mizuki with that misleading, neutral look on his face. Mizuki, however, wasn't fooled. He knew what a challenge looked like. After a moment, Kite arched a brow in question and Mizuki made up his mind.

He'd call his parents later. _Tonight_ – he was going to have a good time.

 

_to be continued..._


	2. Whereupon Mizuki embarrasses himself and Kite is walking sex. As usual.

The tall, imposing boy who opened the front door startled Mizuki to such a degree that he took a step backward. Directly into Rin.

"Hey, watch the shoes!" he said, both hands splayed at Mizuki's back to prevent any more unnecessary touching.

"Sorry," Mizuki muttered, sidestepping and bumping the gate with his hip. It hurt and he grimaced, but he didn't say a word.

"That was fast," the tall boy said, turning away from the door and leaving it open for his friends to follow.

Kite's friends went on ahead, elbowing one other and each issuing graphic, violent threats for trying to push the other aside. Mizuki stared, shocked. He was unused to such barbarism, even if he _did_ attend Hyoutei.

"Let's go, graceful," Kite said, nudging Mizuki toward the door. "He won't bite."

Mizuki wasn't entirely sure he believed that, but he allowed Kite to steer him into the tiny house while he tried not to ogle his surroundings too much. It wasn't often that Mizuki had an opportunity to observe a peer's living conditions that were poorer than his own. But then, he wasn't sure he wanted to consider someone like _that_ any peer of his. Kite's presence at his back, however – silent and somehow protective – made Mizuki almost immediately ashamed of his uncharitable thoughts.

The long, gangly fellow stood in the center of the tiny room looking ungainly while Rin flopped down in a ratty armchair and pulled trucker hat down with him.

"Hiroshi, let's play Resident Evil. Hook it up."

With a brief glance in Mizuki's direction, the tall one motioned the two boys away. "Get out of my chair," he said, taking a seat almost before they'd vacated.

"I brought a guest," Kite said. "I hope it's all right."

Shrugging, the boy said, "Whatever. Long as he doesn't steal anything."

" _Steal_ anything?" Mizuki began, immediately indignant.

But Kite only laughed and moved past him toward the small kitchen. "His name is Mizuki," he told the other boys. "He's going to hang out."

The tall one nodded. "I'm Chinen."

"Kai Yuujiroh," trucker hat said, taking off his hat and stuffing it on Rin's head.

Frowning, Rin elbowed Kai and knocked the hat off into the floor. "Hirakoba Rin. Why don't I know you, Mizuki-kun?"

Glancing quickly at Kite, who was pilfering through Chinen's icebox and not looking at him at all, Mizuki sniffed and began to twirl his hair. "Well, I'm on holiday. I'm from Ya...Tokyo. I attend Hyoutei Gakuen."

"You must be rich," Kai said, sitting up and eyes sparkling. "We saw some Hyoutei players a couple of years ago at the Nationals in Kantou and they were-"

"Assholes," Rin supplied bitterly. "They were great, big, pompous assholes. Right, Eishirou?"

Shrugging, Kite uncapped a bottle of water and snagged a six-pack of beer off the counter on his way back into the sitting room. "I don't remember."

Dissolving into giggles, Kai lay against Rin again, ignoring the other boy's efforts to dislodge him. "He's still mad about Atobe Keigo stealing away that Seigaku captain's attention before _he_ had the chance to do it."

Kite appeared unfazed, leaning against the wall and holding out the six-pack to Chinen. "Atobe who?"

Mizuki began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. They all had more in common than he'd originally suspected and it took away something of his mystery – his anonymity. While he dearly wanted to chime in with his own vehement agreement regarding Atobe's state of pomposity, Mizuki held his council – he'd do better to listen and learn.

Observing quietly, Chinen tugged a can free of the plastic ring and popped the top, though he didn't drink right away. Kite made no move toward helping himself to a beer and seemed perfectly content to sip water.

"Anyway," Kai went on, leaning over Rin to hook one finger between the beer cans and tug them toward him. "Enough about them. Sit with us, Mizuki-kun. Have a drink!"

Sparing Kite yet another uncertain glance, Mizuki faltered and Rin laughed.

"You don't need his permission," he said. "You're on holiday; drink up!"

"I...," Mizuki began. His phone felt like rocks in his pocket and his stomach knotted with apprehension. Mizuki didn't drink alcohol – he never had. For one, it was illegal, for another, he'd heard alcohol consumption had horrific effects on one's complexion. "Aren't you having any, Kite?"

Kite shook his head. "I don't drink."

Kai snorted. "He doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, doesn't eat red meat-"

"Runs five miles every morning, never skips breakfast and goes to bed early on school nights," Rin finished.

Eyes wide, Mizuki couldn't stop staring at Kite. He was a paragon of virtue! Or, he silently amended, as virtuous as a cheating bully could be. Looking at Kite now, however, and having had the opportunity to observe him and speak to him and watch his interactions with the rest of his team, Mizuki began to think that Yuuta was wrong in the things he'd said about Kite. Or perhaps Fuji Shuusuke had lied to Yuuta out of spite – Mizuki certainly wouldn't have put it past him.

"Mizuki-kun," Kite said, effectively derailing his Fuji-bound train of thought. "Call your parents first."

"Oh, right," he murmured, reaching into his pocket and turning away. As he entered his father's number, he wondered at his lack of hesitation where Kite's directives were concerned. And if the rest of the group was anything to go by, he wasn't the only one. They all seemed happy enough to rely on Kite's judgment and follow his lead.

After a few seconds, his father picked up. Mizuki could hear clinking coins and slot machines and his grandmother's drunken giggles in the background.

"Father?"

"Nanami?" His father asked, speaking too loudly into the phone.

Mizuki pulled his phone away from his ear and frowned. "No, Father, it's _me_ , Hajime."

"Ahhh, of course. Hajime, _my boy_!"

"Father, you don't need to wait up for me tonight, all right? I've met some people and I'm hanging out with them."

"Already?" His father asked, and quickly cleared his throat. "Of course, Hajime. I'm glad you're having a good time. Stay out of trouble."

Mizuki rolled his eyes. He could hear his grandmother catcalling at someone. "I will. See you tomorrow."

Still irritated, he hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket. When he turned to face the others again, Kai was standing before him – so close that he could see his own reflection in the boy's eyes.

"Now." Kai said, grinning at Mizuki when he pressed the beer can into his hand. "Where _were_ we?"

 

~***~

 

The sun was positively _invasive_ when Mizuki awakened the next morning. The room was bright and he was warm. In the next room, he could hear the clatter of dishes and low voices. He shifted, stretching his legs and yawning, almost content when the sunlight streamed across the futon and over the floor. There were no blankets covering him – he wouldn't have needed them if there were – and the two warm, sleepy bodies on either side of him sandwiched him quite nicely indeed.

He hummed faintly, rubbing his cheek on the soft hair that brushed his face and tucked an arm around someone's waist.

"Rise and shine, princess," a familiar voice murmured against his ear and it wasn't until he felt the palm of someone's hand easing beneath his shirt and up along his belly that the previous night came rushing back to him.

He froze. "What are you doing?"

"Snuggling," came the immediate reply. Kai laughed, molding himself to Mizuki's back and breathing in the scent of his neck, his hair. "You don't like to snuggle?"

"Not particularly," he snapped, shifting against Kai and realizing that he should probably just remain still.

"Then why are you snuggling Rin?" Kai wanted to know. "You want to hurt my feelings or something?"

"Of course I don-" Mizuki began, but Rin reached behind him to shove at Kai's hip.

"Leave him alone, jerkoff," he said, voice thick with sleep.

Kai reached across Mizuki to slap at Rin's leg. "Mind your own business, butthead."

"Uh, excuse me," Mizuki said, scooting toward the end of the futon and hoping that Kai didn't make a grab for him. He needn't have worried; Kai and Rin had drifted closer to one another, burrowing in amongst the blankets even as they continued to trade lame, sleepy insults.

As warm as it had been amidst the blankets and pillows and comfortable, lazy boys, the floor beneath Mizuki's feet was chilly. Crossing the room in his bare feet, Mizuki hurried into the main room to find Kite and Chinen straightening up and preparing breakfast.

While he was dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing the night before, Kite looked fresh and pressed and clean. His hair was damp; maybe he'd taken a shower.

Chinen noticed him first, glancing over his shoulder and grunting acknowledgment as he turned back to the stove. Kite looked over, then, and swept Mizuki with a look from head to toe.

"Good night?" he asked, steadying a teapot lid as he filled two cups.

"Uh, yes, I believe so. You?"

Kite shrugged. "I've had worse."

Chinen glanced over his shoulder at Kite, expression wry.

"What?" Kite asked, sounding innocent.

Declining to respond, Chinen turned his attention back to the task at hand and Kite offered Mizuki the barest of smiles. "How's your head?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mizuki frowned. "Hurts a little. I feel a little queasy."

"Figured you would," Kite said, motioning Mizuki over. "Have some tea."

"How much did I drink last night?" Mizuki asked. He just knew he'd been completely wasted and had made an ass of himself. He hoped Kite would color the truth a little to spare what dignity he had left.

"Four, maybe five beers," Kite told him, placing the teacup on a tiny saucer and passing it over the half-wall to Mizuki.

"You passed out before you could finish the fifth one," Chinen added.

"Right. Kai drank the rest for you," Kite said. "You didn't tell me you were a lightweight, Mizuki-kun."

Mizuki sipped his tea, ignoring the way his stomach turned, and glared at Kite over the rim of his cup. "Like you had to ask?"

To his surprise, Chinen snickered and Kite actually cracked a smile. "Not really, city boy."

Mizuki sighed, afraid to imagine how his hair must look. "I'm sorry if I caused trouble."

"You didn't," Chinen turned then, transferring a couple of omelets from the pan to a waiting plate. "That's Kai's job."

"After we eat and tidy up, I'll walk you back to your hotel," Kite told him, adding a drop of honey to his tea and stirring it idly.

"I'm not a girl," Mizuki said, embarrassed and grumpy, and he shrugged his shoulders – slumping in on himself – when Kite raised a brow at him. "Sorry," he muttered.

Kite seemed unperturbed. "You can find your own way back?"

Mizuki shook his head, stared at the floor while he sipped his tea. Kite was no Yuuta – he would have to remember that.

Kite yawned, stretched and set his cup down to assist Chinen. They worked together in silence, each seeming to anticipate the other's moves, and Mizuki watched them closely. They didn't spare many words for one another, but Mizuki suspected that their bond was much stronger than the bonds they shared with the two boys sleeping just in the next room. It surprised him to realize that he didn't enjoy thinking about it and so he sat up a little straighter and nodded his thanks when Kite set a small plate of fruit and rice crackers before him.

"Eat this," he said.

Swallowing hard, Mizuki lay one hand against his belly and grimaced. "I'm not sure I can," he said honestly.

"Maybe he needs one of your health shakes, Kite," Chinen said, sitting down at the tiny kitchen table with a plate full of omelets.

Kite's almost-smile was enough for Mizuki to suspect that he definitely didn't want a health shake of any sort.

"I'll try this," he quickly assured, nibbling one cracker and trying not to focus on how the crumbs felt against his tongue. Kite leaned against the counter and it surprised Mizuki to realize that he seemed disinterested in taking a seat beside his friend. Even more surprising was that Kite watched him closely and didn't bother to hide it from Chinen.

"Sightseeing with the family today, I'll bet," he finally said and Mizuki shrugged. He didn't know Kite very well but he felt certain that he wasn't the sort to make small talk. His asking after Mizuki's plans wouldn't have been to satisfy idle curiosity.

Looking up, Mizuki met Kite's eyes and _felt_ the rush of color to his face before he looked away again; Kite was unnerving. "Probably," he agreed. "What are _you_ doing today?"

When Kite didn't answer right away, Mizuki snuck a glance at Chinen. Faced away from Mizuki, he leaned over his plate intently. Mizuki couldn't help feeling certain that the other boy was laughing at him, however secretly he might have been doing it. One look at Kite's expression confirmed his suspicions and he bristled, unwilling to be the butt of someone's private joke here, too.

"Forget it," he said, setting his cup on the half-wall beside the plate of mostly-untouched food. "I'm going."

He stumbled at the front door, losing his balance when he tried to slip his shoes on without sparing Kite and Chinen a second glance. He'd hoped to feel some sort of obligation or camaraderie when parting company with the boys he'd spent the night with but he knew that he never should have allowed himself to hope for anything of the sort. He was used to it, this dance to which he'd never quite learned the steps.

Outside, the sun was bright and he knew it was getting quite late in the morning. He supposed that both Rin and Kai had consumed far more alcohol than he had to keep them in bed so long. Shielding his eyes, Mizuki crossed a quiet side road and tried to tell himself that the ache in his belly had everything to do with too much beer and nothing at all to do with the regret he was stupid to feel. Paramount in his mind was the certainty that the remainder of his week would be spent trying to avoid Kite and his friends and being too aware of both himself and the people he saw. Stuffing both hands into his pockets, he kicked at a cluster of insects, but sidestepped at the last moment to keep from crushing them under his sandals. He really just wanted to go home.

"Hey," Kite called behind him, not rushing and appearing all too confident that Mizuki would stop. "Wait, Mizuki-kun."

Scowling, Mizuki walked faster. _Self-satisfied asshole_. "Just leave me alone!" he called back, picking up his pace in the hopes that he could get away from Kite before he said anything else to humiliate himself. He hadn't factored in, however, Kite's much longer legs and apparent inability to be put aside in the interests of an award winning flounce.

Laying one hand on Mizuki's shoulder, Kite turned him easily, stepping closer than he might have under normal circumstances but appearing disinterested in putting space between them again once he'd caught Mizuki.

"What was that?" he asked.

Mizuki shook his head, squinting against the sun. "What was _what_?"

"Why did you leave?"

Shaking Kite's hand off, Mizuki gripped his own arms and looked away. "Like you don't know."

"If I knew, Mizuki-kun," Kite said, patience entirely exaggerated. "I wouldn't have asked."

"You were laughing at me," Mizuki spat, taking a step backward. "You're just like _them_. All of you."

When he snuck a glance at Kite, he was surprised at the expression on his face. He didn't look sheepish, didn't look guilty or as though he were about to twist the knife a bit deeper. He looked confused.

"I wasn't laughing at you," he said, shaking his head. "And Chinen wasn't paying any attention to either of us. So what, exactly, gave you the idea that I was laughing at you?"

Silent for a moment, Mizuki could only shrug. While it was true that neither Kite nor Chinen had done anything to indicate that they were making fun of him, Mizuki couldn't help feeling as though their silence and propensity for shared, secret looks were at his expense. Considering it now – and realizing how self-absorbed he'd really been – Mizuki couldn't help feeling embarrassed.

"I..." he began, watching bugs scurry in the dirt and wishing he could disappear.

Kite only sighed and nudged Mizuki's forehead with his knuckles. "You're a real piece of work, Mizuki-kun. Anybody ever tell you that?"

In answer, Mizuki only shrugged. How many times could he apologize before Kite grew bored of hearing it?

"Here," Kite finally told him, holding Mizuki's jacket out. "You left this."

Taking it without looking at Kite, Mizuki wrapped the sleeves around his waist and tied the jacket low on his hips. He could feel Kite's eyes on him. "Thanks," he murmured, his words as close to an apology as he could manage. "You don't have to walk me back."

But Kite had already begun walking in the direction of Mizuki's hotel and so Mizuki could only follow. His ears burned, and not from the sun.

Side by side, they walked in silence for several minutes. Mizuki was careful where he stepped – the sidewalks were cracked and uneven. In some shady places, dew still clung to the grass and Mizuki wondered what the very early morning sunlight would have been like. Tomorrow, he told himself, he'd get up early enough to enjoy it.

Away from the tiny houses and toward the businesses and touristy areas, activity picked up quite a bit and Mizuki remembered that – despite all the free time that was his – it wasn't a weekend. On the island it was business as usual and it made him shudder to think about which family activities his father might have planned for him today.

They stopped at the crosswalk opposite the hotel and Kite nodded a greeting to a tall, blonde woman who waved to him from the front lawn of a scuba-equipment shop.

"Do you know her?" Mizuki asked, unable to help gawking at her. She was easily six feet tall and built like a wet dream. Big tits, tiny waist, round butt. She wore board shorts and a bikini top and her long, thick braid brushed the small of her back when she moved.

"Yeah," Kite said, hands in his pockets and idly staring. "They offer scuba tours and things like that. I've done a few dives for them before when it got busy."

After a moment, a shorter, equally blonde and even more voluptuous woman stepped outside to join her. The short girl had two long, thick braids that brushed the swells of her breasts when she leaned forward to hand her companion a water bottle and Mizuki watched, eyes wide and mouth hanging open when the taller one bent to brush a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"They...she...did you _see_ that?" Mizuki hissed, afraid that the women would hear him and scamper back inside where he couldn't watch their boobs touch.

"Yeah," Kite said, walking again. "Light's green, Mizuki-kun."

Mizuki's followed, though he kept glancing back at the shop while his shoes flapped against the pavement. "I can't believe they just...just..."

The short woman had gone back inside and the tall one busied herself with boring activities like arranging lawn ornaments and moving sidewalk ropes. Mizuki wondered if he could see the storefront from his hotel window.

"You've never seen two girls kiss, Mizuki-kun?" Kite asked.

"What? Of course I haven't!" Mizuki exclaimed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening in.

"How about two boys?" Kite pressed, clearly amused.

Before he had the opportunity to become flustered and embarrassed, Mizuki recalled the night before and smiled smugly at Kite. "Yes. Last night, remember? _Your_ teammates."

Kite laughed and Mizuki crossed his arms, looking proud of himself. "So _there_."

"Other than that," Kite said, stepping close again, his voice low and pitched only for Mizuki's ears. "Tell me, Mizuki-kun. Have you ever seen two men touch each other simply because they couldn't resist even a second longer?"

Mizuki swallowed. Hard.

"Have you ever stood close enough to another guy that you could smell his skin and you didn't want to move away?"

Yes, Mizuki thought. _Right now_.

His throat tightened; the words would simply not come.

"I wonder what you've seen, Mizuki-kun," Kite continued, standing so close and yet careful not to touch Mizuki. "And what you haven't seen. And what you think about while you hope like hell that nobody can read your mind just by looking at your face."

Mizuki's breath hitched and he closed his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and touching Kite's arms, his tanned, smooth skin.

"You don't remember last night, do you?" he asked, voice nearly a whisper.

Mizuki shook his head and wondered if his knees would continue to support his weight when they felt like jelly. "Nothing happened," was all that he could say. So foreign was his voice to his own ears, he felt certain the words hadn't been his.

"Nothing happened," Kite agreed mildly. "But that wasn't my question, was it?"

Staring out into the street, past Kite, Mizuki searched his memories of the previous night for anything that might give Kite reason to lean in close like that and suck all of Mizuki's common sense and self-assurance away into some sort of evil Okinawan vortex.

But then Kite straightened and brushed a particularly tight curl away from Mizuki's forehead. At Mizuki's blank look, he smiled – that genuine smile that made him look so different – and took a step backward. "I'll ask you again," he said. "Later."

Mizuki watched him go, unable to believe what had just transpired, and when he turned to trudge back inside the hotel, Kite's words still rang in his ears.

_'You don't remember what happened last night, do you?'_

_'I wonder what you've seen, Mizuki-kun.'_

_'I'll ask you again.'_

_'Later.'_

"Hajime!" his mother called, startling Mizuki enough that he had to stifle the squeal that had very nearly escaped him.

He looked around, his head swimming, and noticed his family seated inside the hotel's restaurant. As far as Mizuki could ascertain, they were enjoying a spare, healthy breakfast over what was probably very cheap coffee. 'The poorman's special' he liked to call it.

"Come and have breakfast, son," his father said, motioning to an empty chair.

"Out rather late, weren't you?" His mother sniffed.

"Late?" His grandfather spoke up. "It's early!"

"Where's Nanami and Natsuru?" Mizuki asked, taking a seat.

His father shrugged. "The girls were tired. They had a late night, too."

"They must be hungover," Mizuki muttered, wrinkling his nose at the sausage his grandfather was eagerly sawing into.

"Hungover?!" His mother exclaimed. "Don't be absurd!" And then, lowering her voice, she leaned toward Mizuki. "You'd better not have been drinking alcohol, Mizuki Hajime."

Mizuki frowned, straightened his shoulders and hoped he looked as offended as he wanted to. "Of course I wasn't."

"Hm," his mother sniffed, seemingly mollified as she helped herself to more tea and several spoonfuls of sugar. His grandmother mentioned the boutique she'd seen the day before and began to talk to Mizuki's mother about looking for a new pair of beach shoes after breakfast.

Mizuki tuned them out, sipped at an untouched glass of water and allowed his thoughts to return where they'd been before his parents had found a way to ruin it all.

He thought about Kite walking away from him, the sun bright on his shoulders and bare arms, attracting more than a few admiring glances with his loose-limbed, lazy walk.

He thought about Kite chasing after him and wondered why he'd bother. He thought about the secret glances between Kite and Chinen and wondered why they'd set his teeth on edge.

He thought about waking up with Rin's warm body against him and Kai's hands under his shirt. Distantly, he remembered Kai dancing on Chinen's bed and Rin smacking him with a pillow. He remembered Chinen going outside to talk on the phone and Kai running around the living room in a Viking hat and a bath towel. He remembered feeling very warm and drowsy and being very interested in the way the TV lights flickered over Rin's bright hair.

He remembered leaning against Kite on the floor while Rin and Kai played video games and finished off the last of the beer.

Staring into space, Mizuki was only barely aware of the pace at which his pulse had begun to hammer. Just like that – he remembered. Remembered laying his head against Kite's shoulder and the way his head had spun when he buried his face in the curve of Kite's neck. He'd smelled good and had felt even better and when Mizuki had lay one hand on Kite's thigh to inch just a little bit closer, Kite had turned his head to look at him.

Closing his eyes and allowing the abject mortification to rush over him, Mizuki remembered his own words and wished that he could die a hundred times.

"Touch me," he'd said. "I don't mind."

Kite had stared at him – through him – and Mizuki could remember feeling as though every nerve ending in his body had stood immediately at attention.

Finally, he'd whispered, "You're drunk, Mizuki-kun." His breath had been warm and Mizuki could almost imagine how hot his mouth would be when they kissed. Because of course they were going to. _Kiss_.

"No, I'm not," he'd protested, head spinning and so, so happily buzzed when Kite's arm had draped so snug around his shoulders.

"Yeah, you are," Kite had said, standing and tugging Mizuki to his feet. "Chinen, where can I put him?"

Head lolling forward, Mizuki had giggled against Kite's shoulder, his dick instantly, painfully hard when Kite swept him right off his feet to lift him up. He hadn't heard Chinen's answer, didn't care that Kai and Rin were laughing at him and making very inappropriate comments regarding Kite's plans for the remainder of the evening. All he knew – all he cared about – was that Kite was carrying him off someplace so that they could be alone. His heart had pounded then as it was in that very moment and Mizuki took another long drink of water as his last words to Kite came back to him.

"Take me to bed," he'd said, fingers fisting in Kite's shirt to bare one tanned, strong shoulder.

Kite had laid him down, leaned over him to stare at him for long, tense moments. And then he'd turned out the lights, draped a thin blanket over Mizuki's body and turned away.

"Sleep," he'd said, his voice sounding to Mizuki as though it were coming to him from the end of a very long tunnel.

For about half a minute, Mizuki had considered rising to go after him, to clarify his thoughts and desires, whatever they'd been. He'd just been so tired – too tired to speak or to move and he'd been so, so warm and comfortable.

And then he'd slept, just as Kite had said that he should.

"Don't you think so, Hajime?" His father was asking.

"Hm?" Mizuki asked blankly.

His mother leaned in to press the back of her hand to Mizuki's forehead. "You're flushed, Hajime; are you sure you're all right?"

Mizuki turned his head away, not wanting to look at anyone in that moment. He was flushed all right – his dick was hard and his stomach ached and he wanted to climb the highest cliff on the island so that he could throw himself right over the edge – and his father was still blathering.

"I was saying that we should visit the aquarium in Motobu today or tomorrow. I hear it's breathtaking."

Mizuki pressed his water glass against his forehead and tried not to pant for air. His father didn't know shit about 'breathtaking'.

"Yeah, sure," he said, setting his glass down and standing awkwardly and suddenly enough that his chair rocked back and very nearly tipped over.

"Hajime?" His mother asked, concern apparent in her voice.

"I'm fine, Mother," he said, making an effort to smile. "I'm just really hot and tired and I need a shower."

He turned then, raking a hand through his hair and forgetting to twirl his curls artfully. His hair was probably a bird's nest and – worse – he couldn't have cared less. Trudging toward the elevator, he knew he'd have to use his parents' bathroom if he wished to avoid interfacing with his sisters. He didn't think he was in any state of mind to deal with their teasing or probing questions and figured that it would be better for everyone involved if he just kept to himself for now.

All that he could think about – all that was in his mind – was what Kite must think of him and how in the world he was going to get through the hours or days until he could find Kite and tell him that he _remembered_.

Somehow, Mizuki knew it didn't matter. Right now, he felt worse than he'd ever felt in his life. And that was saying something.


	3. Whereupon Mizuki phones home and Kai loses his temper in a very big way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On holiday with his family, Mizuki meets someone who changes his way of thinking and the way he views himself.

The ceiling was, Mizuki decided, entirely generic and uninteresting. It was white and plain and there was a crack at the far end of one wall. Sometime in the past couple of hours, he'd imagined the crack widening – opening up to swallow all the furniture inside the room. He'd imagined himself falling into the ceiling's abyss and thought about making a game of closing his eyes to see how long he could keep them closed. He hadn't lasted long.

Two days had passed since Mizuki had run into Kite or any of his friends and though he'd spent those two days in a flurry of familial holiday activity, Mizuki still felt as though he hadn't seen anything worth leaving Tokyo for. They'd shopped, eaten in various restaurants, spent a ridiculous amount of time at the Aquarium whereupon Mizuki's father had embarrassed him with his enthusiasm and now, frowny-faced and full of misgivings, he lay supine on a rented bed and wished he were somewhere else. Wished he were some _one_ else.

"Natsuru, fasten this," Nanami said, winding her hair into a bun atop her head and turning away from her sister. Mizuki watched passively, thinking of all the boys who would do anything to be lying where Mizuki was lying currently.

His sisters, preparing for a day out without the family, paraded around their room in various stages of undress. They ignored Mizuki, which was fine with him. Conversing with his sisters while they stood around in their underwear made him feel weird.

Doing up the buttons along the back of Nanami's summer dress, Natsuru glanced over her shoulder at Mizuki. "Hajime, aren't you going out? Tomorrow's our last full day."

Mizuki rolled over, presented his sister with his backside. She pretended to miss the significance.

"All you've done is hang out with the old people and skulk around the beach by yourself," she went on, disapproval clear in the tone of her voice.

"Uh-uh, Natsuru," Nanami interjected, smirking at the Mizuki lump on the bed. "You forget that he stayed out that one night. What do you suppose he was up to, hm?"

When Mizuki ignored her, she went on. "All those American soldiers hanging around; I'm sure there was _plenty_ to get up to."

Mizuki had never given any indication to his family one way or the other as to his sexual preference. Not that he ever really thought about things like that - it was a waste of brainpower. "I hate you," he mumbled against the pillow.

"Aww, come on, Hajime," Nanami laughed, leaning over to smack Mizuki's hip playfully. "We're on holiday. Holiday means you're supposed to enjoy yourself."

Mizuki didn't answer. It was difficult to enjoy oneself when one had experienced a nearly fatal humiliation. Given that Nanami had likely never experienced anything remotely akin to humiliation, Mizuki figured it would be a waste of breath to try to explain. Besides that, he wasn't stupid. Never in a million years would he give _anyone_ that sort of personal ammunition. Not even a member of his own family.

"Just leave me alone," he finally said, morose and dejected.

Almost immediately, Nanami's solicitous interest dissipated and the temperature in their room seemed to drop. Mizuki didn't care and, after a few moments, the girls took their leave in a flurry of floofy skirts, strappy sandals and long, glossy hair. In their wake remained the faint scent of hair product and cherry body spritz and the silence that enveloped Mizuki then was almost tangible. Heavy and thick with misgivings and injustice that only the very wronged could imagine.

Mizuki sighed, rolling to his back and glancing restlessly around the room. He was tired of staying in, honestly. He was scant yards from the seaside, from the freedom and beauty of his surroundings and, perhaps, even yards from Kite, as well. The possibility of seeing him, however, was the reason Mizuki couldn't bring himself to leave the safety of his hotel room. Maybe it was for the best that he leave Okinawa without speaking to Kite Eishirou ever again. Just go ahead and leave and let his embarrassment linger to amuse those Higa ruffians for months to come. It was unlikely that Kite would laugh at him – had ever laughed at him – but self-pity wasn't supposed to carry reason.

He eyed the phone sitting atop the bedside table and contemplated his father's ire upon checkout when he received the extra charges. Not that his father was particularly known for ire of any sort, but Mizuki knew that he'd be angry, or worse – disappointed. His cell, however, didn't have a great signal even when calling locally on the island.

After a few moments of internal debate, Mizuki rolled to his side again and reached for the receiver. The numbers he pressed were most familiar to him of any number that he could remember and his stomach knotted when the line opened and began to ring. Once, twice – please, _please_ don't let Fuji Shuusuke pick up – and when the ringing stopped, Mizuki held his breath.

The greeting he received, sullen and characteristically unpleasant, put Mizuki immediately at ease. He smiled. "Yuuta."

"Mizuki-san!" was Yuuta's response, quite a bit more receptive than his initial greeting. "How are you?"

"Okay, I suppose," Mizuki said. "Being lazy on holiday, you know."

Laughing softly against the phone, Yuuta's voice lowered – probably hoping for just a moment of privacy from his meddling older brother. "Do you have a tan, Mizuki-san?"

Flush with sudden heat, Mizuki swallowed hard. Yuuta's words, Yuuta's _voice_...

"Er, not especially. You know I don't care to spend too much time in the sun."

"You'd get burned fast," Yuuta said solemnly. "What's Okinawa like?"

"Not like Tokyo," Mizuki was quick to say.

"Well, of course it's not like Tokyo," Yuuta said. "Is that a bad thing?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to say 'yes'. Yes, it is a bad thing and ugh, these people are all country bumpkins. But it wasn't. And they weren't. Yuuta was the only person who would understand something like that and readily agree. "No," he finally managed, lonely again. "Not really. I think you'd like it here."

"I hear the beaches are amazing," Yuuta went on. "Fishing and surfing and diving."

"You like to fish, Yuuta?" Mizuki asked, surprised. He'd never heard Yuuta express any interest in any of those activities.

Suddenly bashful, Yuuta mumbled into the phone, his voice even lower than before. Mizuki frowned – Fuji Shuusuke was surely in Yuuta's immediate vicinity.

"I've only been once or twice, but I liked it. And I've always wanted to try surfing."

"It's too bad you couldn't have come with me," Mizuki said in a rare show of true loneliness.

Yuuta was silent for a moment – Mizuki heard him sigh – before murmuring, "Yeah."

Despite his solitude and the certainty that Yuuta had no idea how he felt in that moment, Mizuki blushed, suffused with warmth and something astonishingly close to desire. "Maybe sometime we'll do those things. You and I."

Yuuta's murmur of assent was nearly inaudible and both boys fell silent, awkward when the conversation turned intimate. Mizuki sighed, forlorn, and Yuuta cleared his throat.

"But you're having fun, aren't you? I mean, that's what matters."

Smiling, Mizuki recalled certain moments of his holiday and wondered why it seemed so impossible to mention the Higa boys in general and Kite Eishirou in particular. Somehow, Mizuki felt that talking about them took away a bit of the mystery, a bit of the puzzle he'd yet to figure out. It wasn't that he didn't trust Yuuta – there was no one he trusted more – but it had never been easy for Mizuki to reveal anything personal of himself and he doubted that it ever would.

"I've had worse times," he said, recalling family gatherings where his father took over the karaoke machine and his first day at Hyoutei and the time Oshitari Yuushi had blatantly cruised Mizuki in the showers, leaving no uncertainty as to which role he'd prefer Mizuki to assume. "It just seems like a long time since we'd spoken. I wanted to say hello."

"I'm...glad," Yuuta managed, hesitant and bashful. Mizuki's heart beat fast; he wished that he could tell Yuuta so.

"Have you used my gift?"

"Gift?" Mizuki asked, the stars in his eyes evaporating as he realized what Yuuta was referring to. "Oh. Not yet, Yuuta-kun. Not...yet."

"Oh, well it's no big deal," Yuuta was quick to assure him, the tone of his voice entirely too breezy to be sincere. "It was a dumb present anyway."

"No, it wasn't," Mizuki said, wanting so badly to convey his appreciation and regard all over again – the way he hadn't been able to when Yuuta had given him the journal. "Actually, I'm looking forward to-"

"Mizuki-san," Yuuta interrupted, lips pressed close to the phone. "I have to go. Thank you for calling. I'll see you soon."

"But, Yuuta..." Mizuki began, confused and regretful. But the line was already dead and Yuuta was gone.

Sighing heavily, Mizuki replaced the receiver and thought about the journal Yuuta had given him just before he'd left. More than once he'd opened it, run his hand over the smooth, blank pages and thought about all the secret words he could write there if only he had the nerve. His feelings, ambiguous at best, would become something quite a bit more concrete and definable if he ever dared to put them on paper.

Thinking about it made Mizuki's chest hurt. Somewhere along the way, Yuuta had become much more than a pet project and, unfortunately, superficial relationships were the only sorts of interactions Mizuki felt adept enough to handle. Comparing these feelings of uncertainty and hopefulness to the nervous, overwhelming fascination he seemed to hold for Kite made Mizuki sick at heart and sick to his stomach. He was, it seemed, everything that Atobe Keigo and his friends thought he was.

Glancing toward the window, Mizuki tried to ignore the sounds of his grandparents talking in the bathroom just on the other side of the wall. He squeezed his eyes tight, unable to block them out, and was shocked to realize just how tense he was. His fists, at his side, were clenched tightly.

He opened his eyes, took a deep, relaxing breath. He needed to get out. _Now_.

 

***

The sand was hot beneath his sandals, against the sides of his feet and his heels. Seeing other people standing outside of the surf with no shoes to protect their feet made Mizuki wonder if all Okinawans were nuts or if it were just a select few.

People were out and about – sunning themselves, swimming, shopping, grabbing a snack from one of the seaside vendors – and Mizuki noticed more kids out today than in the days before.

Near one of the small stands along the strip, Mizuki noticed Kai hanging out with who had to be the biggest kid Mizuki had seen since Kabaji. The big boy was eating barbecue out of a grease-stained paper bowl with his fingers; Kai sipped a fruit smoothie. He waved when he spotted Mizuki, elbowing his friend who grunted, but barely looked up.

"Mizuki-kuuuuuun," he called, slinging an arm around his friend's neck and attempting to climb him like a tree in order to get Mizuki's attention.

Managing a smile, Mizuki waved back, his feet sinking in sand as he went. "Kai-kun," he said, hands stuffed into his pockets. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Why?" Kai asked, biting into a pineapple slice and spraying juice all over his fat friend. "I live here."

"Watch it," the other boy growled, elbowing Kai.

Shoving hard at his arm, and still unable to budge him an inch, Kai scowled. "Pineapple is good on barbecue, stupid." He grinned at Mizuki and gestured to the boy at his side. "This is Tanishi. He's a big jerk. Tanishi, this is Mizuki-kun."

Tanishi just stared, sucking his fingertips.

"You know, Eishirou's new friend," he clarified.

Tanishi nodded, grunting acknowledgement. "Yeah."

" _Charmed_ ," Mizuki said, unable to look away from Tanishi, who was behaving as though this would be his only meal for the week.

"So," Mizuki began, awkward and hoping that Kai didn't pick up on it. "You guys are here by yourselves?"

"Nah," Kai said, eyeing Tanishi's barbecue with increasing interest and gesturing toward the expanse of water stretching out before them. "Rin's out there somewhere."

Following the direction he'd indicated, Mizuki shielded his eyes from the sun. He couldn't see anyone. "Swimming?"

Kai laughed. "Surfing."

"Oh," Mizuki murmured, feeling stupid.

"He looks it, right? Little surfer boy?"

Kai's smile, provoking and sly, made Mizuki's belly somersault. He spoke about Rin – interacted with Rin – as though they were a couple. Even when Kite seemed so certain that they weren't, Mizuki couldn't help wondering again. But then, he reasoned, perhaps that's what Rin and Kai liked about the game.

Mizuki shrugged, uncomfortable, and glanced around idly. He wondered where Kite was and why he wasn't hanging out with his friends.

"He's around," Kai assured him, leaning against Tanishi and swiping a piece of barbecue.

Trying not to look guilty, Mizuki looked back at Kai quickly. "Who?"

Doubling over with laughter – indeed, Kai Yuujiroh didn't laugh so much as he _cackled_ – Kai slapped Tanishi's broad shoulder and grinned up at Mizuki. " _Who_ , he says. Who'd you come out here looking for, city boy?"

Feeling his cheeks flush, Mizuki hunched his shoulders. Even here, where he was an unknown and could adopt whatever persona he chose, he was a joke. Turning away, expression grim, he gazed out toward the ocean. It was vast, overwhelming; its lure was not lost on Mizuki. Not when he spent so much of his time wandering around inside his own mind, looking for just such a place into which he might disappear.

Hauling him back by the loose collar of his shirt, Kai hooked an arm around Mizuki's neck and rubbed his knuckles over Mizuki's messy hair. "Don't look like that, dude. I was just clowning."

"Always clowning," Tanishi grunted, wiping his fingers on his shorts and crumpling the paper container in his huge fist.

"Che, shut up, fatboy," Kai said, elbowing Tanishi without letting go of Mizuki. "Mizuki-kun forgives me."

Frowning, Mizuki wasn't so certain about that until he turned his head to look at Kai. So close, Kai's height advantage was startlingly obvious. So, then, was the teasing, not unkind look in his eyes. "Right Mizuki-kun?" he asked, voice entreating. "You know I'm only messing around."

For a moment, all Mizuki could do was stare back at him. He smelled like saltwater and sunshine and pineapple. That he reacted this way to a good-looking boy's proximity was an immediate, shameful reminder and Mizuki found that he could do no more than nod.

"Atta boy," Kai said, releasing him to rummage through his pockets. "Where's my money, Kei?"

Mizuki stood awkwardly by, ignoring his heightened sense of awareness and watching Kai begin to rummage through Tanishi's pockets when the search through his own yielded no results.

Slapping his hands away, Tanishi's nose wrinkled in irritation. "Quit that," he growled.

"Whoo-hoo, baby. I made your shorts vibrate," Kai giggled, sidestepping and twirling smoothly in the sand. "I'm _electric_."

"You're an idiot," Tanishi corrected, taking out his phone to answer a call. "And I don't have your damned money."

"Must be because I don't have any," Kai said, winking at Mizuki. "Oh, hey, there's the bossman."

Tanishi's mumbling into the phone, Kai's off-key humming, the surf's hollow echo at his back were things that Mizuki was only dimly aware of when he turned to see Kite strolling toward them. He was nervous, excited, apprehensive. But Kite smiled, lifting his chin in acknowledgement when he recognized Mizuki, and everything was _just fine_.

"Where's blondie?" Kai was quick to ask, peering past Kite and toward the water.

"He's coming," Kite said. "Been waiting for a wave for two hours."

"Probably longer than that," Kai said, scratching his head. "Tide wasn't in."

Kite shrugged, glancing at Mizuki and catching his eyes. "It got crowded. Storm's coming." And then, as an afterthought. "Hey, Mizuki-kun."

Mizuki smiled in answer and was the first to look away.

"I gotta go," Tanishi spoke, pocketing his phone.

"Barbecue just hit you?" Kai asked, snickering.

"Shut it," Tanishi replied, lip curled. "My mom needs something from the market. See you guys later."

"Later," Kite echoed, glancing at Mizuki again.

"Miss you already!" Kai called after him, waving and pretending not to see Tanishi turn to flip him off. He grinned at Mizuki and Kite. "He's so easy."

"Where've you been, Mizuki-kun?" Kite asked. "Haven't seen you around the last two days."

Looking up at him, Mizuki became distracted by the longer strands of hair that hung over Kite's forehead, by the way the wind swept them this way and that. He wondered if Kite had thought about the night Mizuki had offered to share a bed and if he regretted not taking the chance. Mizuki still wasn't certain whether or not he regretted it, himself.

"Stuff with the family," he shrugged. "The Aquarium, a really big cave, snakes-"

"Habu!" Kai interrupted, making a snake of his arm and pretending to bite Mizuki.

Repressing a shudder, Mizuki frowned. "Don't remind me."

"You don't like snakes, Mizuki-kun?" Kite asked, brow arched.

"You _do_?" Mizuki demanded in obvious disbelief, but before Kite could answer, Kai pointed down the beach.

"Speaking of, here comes Rinrin."

Kite turned and Mizuki followed suit. There, just in the distance was Rin – his usually bright hair wet and plastered to his head. He dragged his board behind him and seemed to be moving stiffly.

"Is he limping?" Mizuki asked, shading his eyes from the sun.

"He's bleeding!" Kai said, already taking off in his friend's direction.

Touching Mizuki's arm lightly, Kite followed. "Let's go," he murmured.

Mizuki didn't hesitate, keeping up with Kite's long, purposeful strides easily. As they drew nearer, he noticed that Rin _was_ bleeding. Almost immediately, Mizuki began to think of the tiger sharks they'd been warned about or the coral reefs that could be a real danger in a riptide. Rin's expression was pinched, lips drawn and pale.

"What in the fuck happened?" Kai demanded, dropping to his knees before Rin, shoving his shorts higher up his thigh to get a look at his wound. "Holy shit, this is deep."

"It's not," Rin protested, even as Kai stripped off his t-shirt to wrap snugly around Rin's upper thigh. Upon closer inspection, his lip was cut and he had quite a bump on his forehead. Mizuki noticed that he was careful not to touch it so as to avoid calling attention to it.

"Are you all right?" he asked, shy and feeling out of place in this sudden drama. It occurred to him that Rin might not want an outsider present to witness his pain. Mizuki imagined how _he_ would feel, if it had been him.

"I'm okay," he said, attempting to smile but grimacing instead. He swiped at his lip with the back of his hand. It came away red and wet with blood. "Some asshole dropped in on me. He was snaking the whole time and nobody said anything."

"Why not?" Kite wanted to know.

Rin shrugged. "Big guy, kind of an asshole. Kinjo said he'd been stealing all day."

"There wasn't much to steal this morning," Kai said, using the sleeve of the shirt to swipe at the blood that had run along the back of Rin's leg.

"Well, what was there, he stole. He ditched his board and I rolled. It still got me."

Kai stood, framing Rin's face and tipping his head to one side. "You got a knot on your head, Rinrin."

"Let's go back to Hara-san's stand. We can clean him up there," Kite said, and Kai nodded – silent for once. Mizuki hadn't seen him this silent – this angry – and he wasn't sure how to react. He hung back, just as quiet, and snuck little glances at Rin. He had to be in pain, but he tried not to show it.

They didn't walk far and Kai supported Rin's weight as they went. Kite stopped at the stand they'd been hanging around before and spoke to the old man who owned it. Immediately, he knelt to search the shelves below the counter.

"Gotta watch those GI's," he told them solemnly, handing over a small tin of medical supplies. "They don't care about you, me or anything else. No respect," he added, nodding. "None at all."

The expression on Rin's face was confirmation enough that it had, in fact, been an American soldier responsible for his accident. The knowledge seemed to make Kai even more angry.

"Fucking bastards. I shoulda known."

"Calm down, Kai-kun," Kite said mildly, handing a roll of bandages to Mizuki.

Kai fell silent again while Kite and the old man tended to Rin's injury, but Mizuki didn't think for one second that he'd actually calmed down. He continued to glance over his shoulder, eyes quick to cover the sand, the surf. Mizuki sincerely hoped that the American didn't make an appearance. He had no interest in engaging in a surfside brawl; his parents would _kill_ him.

Motioning to the old man's beach chair, Kite spoke to Mizuki. "Bring that over here, Mizuki-kun."

Mizuki moved quickly, dragging the chair to Rin and touching his elbow as he helped him to sit.

Rin laughed. "I'm not an old woman, Mizuki-kun. I told you, I'm fine."

"So fine that blood is crusting between your toes," Kite observed mildly. Rin frowned, but wisely said nothing.

"Will he need to go to the hospital?" Mizuki wondered aloud. "What if it gets infected or what if it's too deep?"

"I'm not going to any hospital," Rin said. "No way."

"But what if it's worse than you think?" Mizuki pressed. "An injury like that..."

"I can't go, Mizuki," Rin told him, voice harder than before. "My parents can't afford it and I'll just get in trouble for being careless."

Mizuki was quiet, contemplating. He thought about the money his father had given him and how much was left. It wasn't enough for a hospital visit, certainly, but perhaps a simple doctor's visit? He thought about asking his father for more money and simply lying about its use. He began to fidget, toes restless in the sand, teeth creasing his bottom lip. He felt powerless, useless and realized that these boys had more opportunity – daily – to feel that way than Mizuki ever had. It was sobering, humbling.

Straightening his shoulders, he shook such thoughts off and returned to the moment to find that Kai was no longer just at his side. He hadn't gone far, however, and was only a handful of yards away, striding purposefully toward a big, fair-haired man in a wet suit. The kind of wet suit professional surfers wore. The kind that Rin could likely not afford.

"Kite," he began, stomach knotting. There was simply no way that any sort of confrontation between Kai and the older, bigger man would end well.

"Just a moment, Mizuki-kun," Kite murmured, careful as he wrapped Rin's leg with clean gauze.

"Er," Mizuki stalled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other anxiously. Kai was in the man's face now – not tall enough to meet him at eye level – and doing his best to intimidate. It didn't seem to be working very well.

"Kite," he tried again, warning clear in the tone of his voice. "Kai's-"

Rin turned then, looking over his shoulder to groan in dismay. "That's the guy," he said. "Kai's going to get his ass handed to him."

He made to rise, only to be halted by Kite's hand on his shoulder. "I don't think so," he said, standing to brush sand from his knees. "Stay here," he added, and Mizuki knew that he'd been talking to both Rin and himself. Not that it was going to be an issue. Mizuki was no kamikaze; pain was not something he was particularly interested in experiencing.

All the same, he watched Kai and the American. Watched the bigger man laugh at something Kai had said. Kite advanced on them neutrally. He didn't charge, didn't escalate the situation. It occurred to Mizuki that Kite was not the hothead that Kai was.

Before Kite could reach them, however, the taller man knocked Kai's hat off his head. Rin sucked in a breath and before he'd even had time to let it out again, Kai _snapped_. Wide-eyed and shocked, Mizuki could do nothing more than stand and gape. It had all happened so quickly, escalated into violence as though there had been no other alternative.

Kai had lowered his head, surging forward to knock the other man back into the sand, falling atop him immediately to land blows – one after the other in rapid succession – on his face and head. Unprepared and clearly not expecting such an attack, the American tried to protect his head, arms raised to ward off Kai's wild punches.

Kite was shouting, the man was shouting, Kai didn't make a sound. Mizuki cringed, his stomach vaulting at the sickening crunch of bone giving way and then there was blood – even more blood than when Rin had limped, wounded, over the sand.

"Oh, no," Rin murmured, bowing his head to bury his face in his hands.

Mizuki imagined that this was not anything new to Rin and, though he seemed unable to stomach the sight of Kai's rage, Mizuki found himself unable to look away. His heart was pounding, his blood was suddenly just _singing_ , his ears rung with the sound of the surf and the chaos he witnessed. He ran, then. Ran toward the fight, toward the brutality – when had he ever wanted to be this close to something so awful? – and nearly fell forward in his need to stop advancing as the man threw Kai off of him. Falling backward into the sand, Kai was quick to scrabble to a crouch again, only to have Kite grab him from behind in an attempt to keep him immobile.

Mizuki stared, excited by Kite's loss of composure, at Kai's total disregard for his own well-being – and it was all in the name of some sort of vengeance that Kai clearly felt was his responsibility to exact.

"You fucking little bastard," the soldier growled, wiping the blood from his face. "You broke my nose," he accused, wincing when he touched it. "And now I'm going to break _you_."

Swinging Kai around, Kite shifted him sideways and out of the American's immediate range. "You injured our friend in the water. We're even," he said, jaw clenched with the effort it took to restrain Kai, who kicked and struggled in his arms. Clearly, he didn't share Kite's sentiments.

"Ugly little savages," the soldier taunted, blood on his lips when he spit into the sand. "You're like wild monkeys out here, right?"

Kai made a sound then – the first sound Mizuki had heard from him since it had all begun – and it was terrible. From somewhere inside him it seemed to echo, that soul-deep, wounded whimper.

"I'll show you your place," the soldier promised, teeth bared as he prepared to spring forward.

Without thinking, Mizuki bent to scoop a handful of sand, scattering it to the wind and into the soldier's eyes. Kai broke free then, pushing Kite away when he swung – just once – to clip the soldier just beneath his right eye. Head snapped to one side, the soldier dropped like a ton of bricks. Kai had knocked him unconscious.

"Kai," Kite urged, his voice low and almost soothing, placating. "We have to get out of here."

"Why?" Kai demanded, hair in his face and streaked with the soldier's blood. "They start shit all the time and get away with it. I'm tired of it!"

"You're angry," Kite continued. "And you're not thinking clearly. Take Rin and go home until this blows over. The MP's will come get him and if there's no one around to blame, it'll die down."

Glancing back at the fallen soldier, Kai's expression darkened again.

"Kai-kun," Kite said, demanding, authoritative.

Almost sheepish, then, Kai hunched his shoulders and wiped his eyes. "Okay, buchou."

"Mizuki-kun," Kite said, softer than before. Mizuki glanced up, aware that they needed to start moving.

"Yes," he murmured, falling into step beside Kite and behind Kai just as the first drops of rain began to fall. Steps unsteady, he maintained his course and had no way of knowing if it was fear or excitement that made his knees wobble just that tiniest bit.

***

Dusk was never so beautiful anywhere in the world as it was in Okinawa. Alone with Kite under a beachfront awning some two or three miles away from his hotel, Mizuki was surprised at how easily and how confidently such a declaration seemed to come.

Lips quirking in a shadow of a smile, Kite handed Mizuki a can of soda and lowered himself into the sand beside him. "Traveled extensively, have you?"

"No," Mizuki answered honestly. "I just can't imagine anything else looking the way the sky does now."

The storm was upon them, ruffling palm fronds and whipping vinyl awnings. The tide was out, but the ocean was in turmoil. It was terrible and it was beautiful. It felt like being in love.

"Other places in the world, other people are thinking the same thing," Kite told him, leaning his head against the bamboo wall of the hut and closing his eyes. "Japan, America, Europe."

Mizuki closed his eyes, lulled by the low, steady tone of Kite's voice as he went on. "New York, Denpasar, Marrakesh, Rome, Wales. It's the same everywhere, more or less."

"Will Kai be all right?" Mizuki asked tentatively, having been holding back the question since they'd parted ways on the beach. Kite had led Mizuki away while Rin and Kai had seemed to rely on one another equally. There wasn't much to say; they were of a like mind.

"Yeah," Kite said. "Rin's there. He'll sleep it off."

"I've never seen anyone lose it like that before," Mizuki admitted, feeling naive and out of his element.

"That's a good thing," Kite said, shaking his head. "It's not something anyone should feel comfortable with." That Kite was not troubled by it at all spoke volumes to Mizuki and only served to further illustrate their differences. "But you, Mizuki-kun," he said, voice turning light and teasing, barely audible over the rushing waves and high winds. "You were one of us today."

Mizuki thought about it – rushing into a fight, throwing sand into someone's eyes, being willing to distract an enemy in order to save them all. Never, ever had he felt the desire to be a part of something so basic, so primal.

"I didn't want you to be hurt," he said simply. When Kite didn't answer, he went on. " _Any_ of you."

"You're okay, Mizuki-kun," Kite murmured, tipping his face up to receive the errant spray of windswept rains.

Huddled close, Mizuki didn't feel quite so daring. "Are we safe here? This isn't much of a shelter."

Kite laughed then. "We don't need a shelter. Just a roof to keep the rain from soaking us to the bone."

Feeling silly, Mizuki watched the sea swell and crest, crash and roll. He'd feared the storm might be a tsunami or worse.

"We're safe," Kite assured him. "It'll pass."

They were silent for long moments until Kite pointed toward the water. "Look. There's Rin's wave."

Mizuki watched in awe as a huge swell crested, curling in on itself only to flatten and roll toward the surf harmlessly. "He'd drown!"

Kite laughed again. "Nah. He'd go for the barrel. He always does."

Having no idea what that meant, Mizuki could only assume that Kite referred to Rin's spirit, his eagerness to take the risk. It made him sad to realize that there was no one in the world who knew him the way Kite knew his teammates. Mizuki's own family couldn't see into him that way. There was no one. But then, Mizuki's heartbeat quickened and he drew idle lines into the sand. _Not no one_ , he thought, Fuji Yuuta at the forefront of his mind.

How did he do it? How did Kite form such bonds, such intimacy, through simple friendship? Until today, Mizuki would have sworn that it was impossible.

"Kite?" he began, hesitant and certain that he'd be reprimanded for his lack of decorum.

"Hm?" Kite hummed, eyes still closed. His leg was pressed to Mizuki's, sand grainy and damp between them.

"Do you-" he hesitated, forehead scrunching in consternation. This was personal, bold, _embarrassing_. "Do you have someone you love?"

_Do you know what love feels like? Have you ever touched another person romantically? Do I want Yuuta or do I just need someone to know my heart the way you know Kai's and Rin's?_

Kite shrugged, unperturbed by Mizuki's familiarity. "Different people are different things to me."

"Yes," Mizuki pressed on. "But do you...have you ever..." _Do you know yourself?_

"What are you asking me, Mizuki-kun?" Kite asked then, turning his head to meet Mizuki's wide, dark eyes.

"There's a boy," Mizuki murmured in a rush. "In Tokyo. I-"

Growing quiet, Mizuki squeezed his eyes closed, wishing he'd never steered the conversation this way. "This is so humiliating," he whispered.

To his surprise, Kite nudged him in encouragement. "Just say it."

"Is there someone you sleep with?"

Kite was silent for a moment and Mizuki did not look up, afraid he'd gone too far. Where, though, and with whom could he ever be so frank? Nowhere. No one. Kite didn't know him and was less likely to judge him for his desires or his confusion.

"Sure," Kite eventually said, stretching his legs out before him and wigging his bare toes. "Sometimes I sleep with Chinen. Sometimes I don't."

Feeling as though all the blood in his body were draining toward his feet, Mizuki swallowed hard, unable to prevent the mental pictures that Kite's casual admission offered.

"Oh god," Mizuki groaned, covering his face. "I shouldn't have asked."

He looked up, red faced and shocked. "Do your friends know? Are you in love?"

"It's not like that," Kite told him.

"What is it like, then?" Mizuki demanded, unable to determine why he felt angry so suddenly. "Explain it to me."

"Chinen trusts me. I trust him. Sometimes we fuck. That's it."

"That's it?!" Mizuki repeated. "You're friends and you... _fuck_?!"

Kite laughed, not unkindly. "Are you jealous, Mizuki-kun?"

"No!" he denied hotly, though he thought that might not be the entire truth. He thought of lying next to Kite and then of lying next to Yuuta. Both possibilities made him hard and restless but only _one_ made his heart feel all melty and full.

"I wish I had your courage," was all that he could say, deflated when he thought that he could never make a move on Yuuta and hope to still be his friend after.

"You can," Kite told him, draping an arm around Mizuki the way Kai did with almost everyone. Kite didn't touch people often, though. Mizuki was certain of it. "Be true to yourself, Mizuki-kun. Everything else will fall into place."

"Even if I think I want to date my kohai?"

Stifling a snicker, Kite tugged Mizuki closer. "Even then."

For a while, neither spoke. The rain lessened as the sun disappeared from view.

"So," Mizuki said. "You have sex with Chinen, but you don't love him."

"I didn't say that," Kite corrected. "There's more than one kind of love, Mizuki-kun."

"But you don't want to be with him and only him. He's not your-" Mizuki paused, nearly cringing. "boyfriend," he finished lamely.

"I wouldn't call him that, no."

"Would you sleep with someone else?" Mizuki asked. He was so curious and this was all so _surreal_.

"I guess so," Kite said, as though he'd never considered it. "That doesn't have anything to do with Chinen."

Bracing himself for still more humiliation – Mizuki was beginning to think he had an appalling masochistic streak – he looked down at this hands, immobile in his lap. "Would you sleep with _me_?"

After a moment, Kite snuggled him close and guided Mizuki to rest his head on Kite's shoulder.

"If you knew the score the way Chinen does? _Absolutely_."

His words, in that tone of voice, seemed to crawl along Mizuki's spine to pool hot and heavy somewhere in the vicinity of his balls. He was torn between wanting to appear worldly and suave and wanting to run blindly into the darkness.

"Are you saying I don't?" he asked, wanting to be offended – _sound_ offended - but just missing the mark.

"You definitely don't," Kite told him matter-of-factly. But he didn't push him away and he didn't laugh at him as Mizuki feared he might. "You will one day, though. And this guy you like will figure it out."

"And then what?" Mizuki asked, hating his innocence but so, so grateful to feel certain it was safe with Kite.

"And then you'll know what kind of love is right for you."

The sea calmed, the winds died down. It was dark and getting cool but Mizuki felt that he'd sooner die than give away this moment. He would, he realized, rather sit out in the wet darkness with Kite than go back to his comfortable hotel room. Either way, he knew he was safe.

"Mizuki-kun," Kite finally prompted.

"Hm?" Mizuki hummed.

"When are you going home?"

"Day after tomorrow," was Mizuki's faint response. There was regret, but there was anticipation, too.

"Would you like to see Shuri castle before you go?"

"Yes," Mizuki said, not surprised to realize that he did. Sightseeing with Kite would be infinitely preferable to playing the tourist with his family.

"I'll come to get you around noon, then," Kite said. "Meet me outside."

"Okay," Mizuki agreed. It was his last full day and there was no one else he'd rather spend it with. Besides that, he needed to find an appropriate souvenir for Yuuta, something that would appropriately express his regard. "I'm tired," he said, the events of the day finally catching up with him.

Kite didn't answer right away, but his arm around Mizuki's shoulders was snug and protective and warm.

"Me too," he finally said.

 

_tbc_


End file.
